


Tender

by zilia



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: D/s, Domestic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Painplay, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilia/pseuds/zilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a scene, Chris and Zach find their way back to each other and themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a response to a prompt on the kink meme: 
> 
> Aftercare
> 
> Would like to see some sweetness after an intense scene.
> 
> Zach as the sub is a nice-to-have but not at all required.
> 
> 11/08/2014: I reread this and spotted some typos, so I made some very minor corrections.

As soon as the light comes on and the ropes come off, the whole atmosphere in the room changes. It’s like there’s suddenly more oxygen in the room and some kind of heavy, oppressive cloud has lifted. The light chases away all of the shadows and fears from the room, replacing them with safety and security. Everything always looks different in the light.

There are a few minutes afterwards when Zach can only lie panting on the bed, his heart racing, his chest burning as he gasps for air, the muscles in his legs and ass and torso all throbbing with pain. The massive rush from his orgasm carries him on a cloud, and there are a few moments where all he can feel is the buzzing in his head, the ache in his limbs. His body is so confused by the mingled pleasure and pain he’s just experienced that it gives up for a moment just to process. After several deep breaths, the buzzing sound recedes and he becomes aware of Chris’s warmth next to him.

“Zach, baby? Are you ok?”

He can’t speak just yet, so he breathes out a shaky hum to reassure his lover that he’s still there. Just about. They make eye contact though, when Zach can finally force his eyes to focus, and Chris’s face swims into view, all tenderness and concern. They hold one another’s gaze, Chris seeking permission to approach, and when Zach silently gives it to him, Chris takes his wrists in his hands and rubs gently, soothing the raw skin and encouraging the blood to flow back into his fingers. The feeling comes back in little electric sparks, and adds to the confusion of sensation running through his body.

“You were so good for me, Zachary, so very good,” Chris murmurs, nuzzling Zach’s head and kissing the top of it. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Zach soaks up the praise, loving it, feeling so glad that he’s managed to please Chris. He’s still not really able to speak, but Chris is patient, loving, gentle. Most of the reason Zach does this so eagerly is because he loves how Chris is afterwards. He doesn’t try too hard to reconcile the nightmare figure from the dark room with the man currently beside him, rubbing cream into the welts on his ass and thighs that he created, anointing him like a precious thing. Thinking about it is too difficult. Instead, he lies back and lets Chris tuck them both under the blankets, snuggling close to him. He has to lie on his front, because any other position would hurt the burning skin on his ass and legs, and Chris is being careful not to put any pressure on his tender places, Zach can tell, but he’s still there, a warm presence radiating security and love. They face each other on the pillow and kiss gently, Chris murmuring soft words of adoration against his lips, and then, cocooned together in their place of safety, they sleep.

 

***

 

The next morning, Zach is dozing in a sleepy haze when he rolls over, momentarily forgetting the reason he’s sleeping on his front, and yelps in pain. His leg and ass muscles are throbbing with pain. Chris has certainly done a thorough job. Now that the combination of the pain relief cream and the orgasmic high from last night has worn off, Zach is much more conscious of the state of his body. It hurts. It _really_ hurts. He rolls over again and whimpers. It’s a sound not unlike the one Noah makes when he’s feeling particularly hard-done-by, and Zach would normally feel a little embarrassed about doing it, but not today.

The sound brings Chris running to their bedroom. Chris’s senses always seem heightened on days like this, giving him supersonic hearing as well as the ability to sense what Zach is thinking or feeling before he says anything, as though beating someone up gives you a temporary window into their head. Or maybe they’ve done this often enough now that Chris can accurately predict Zach’s needs following a scene. Whichever it is, Chris is by his side, carrying two cups of coffee and some pastries on a tray, which explains his absence from the room. He sets the tray on the nightstand and takes Zach’s hand.

“I’m sorry you had to wake up without me here,” Chris says, “I was fixing breakfast and you looked pretty far gone when I got up. I know you don’t like being alone after a scene.”

“That’s true, but it’s impossible to be annoyed at someone bearing pastries.”

Chris laughs, and then peels back the duvet to look at Zach.

“Still looking pretty painful,” he says, his fingers ghosting over the bruises. “You want some more cream?”

“Yes, please.”

Chris dutifully spreads a layer of cream over his handiwork from the previous night. Zach knows he’s doing this as gently as possible, but can’t repress a shudder as his lover’s fingers rake over his sore places. He’s surprised he can’t hear the skin sizzling, it feels so raw. The hint of pain is accompanied by a flash of arousal, and Zach is pretty sure Chris feels it too, even as he tends to Zach’s wounds. There’s a momentary electric charge that sparks between them, which makes Zach think of how much fun they’re going to have later, when the skin is a little less sensitive.

His task accomplished, Chris replaces the duvet, and then hands Zach his coffee. Zach props himself up on his side to accept it. Predictably, Chris wolfs down one of the pastries, although he is careful not to get crumbs on the bed. He then tears a piece off a _pain au raisin_ and holds it in front of Zach, a questioning expression on his face. Zach graciously accepts it from Chris’s hand, nibbling both at it and Chris’s fingers, which makes Chris laugh. He feeds Zach the entire pastry this way and then lets Zach lick the crumbs from his fingers.

“Come back to bed?”

It’s phrased like a question, but both Chris and Zach know it’s an instruction, one that Chris is completely willing to fulfil. They need as much closeness as possible: Chris needs to soothe away any anxiety his words and actions may have caused Zach; Zach needs to reassure Chris that his needs will never drive him away. They both need to replace the people they were last night with the people they are most of the time. Zach holds his arms and heart open, and Chris is only too willing to crawl into the empty space.

They spend most of the afternoon dozing, curled together under the blankets, but Chris inevitably gets hungry and so they decide to get up. They’re both in need of a wash, but Zach’s body hurts too much to have a shower, so Chris helps him to the bathroom and runs a shallow bath. He gently sponges Zach down, his touch very careful on the bruises, and then Zach returns the favour, lavishing attention on Chris’s body, aware that he needs some attention too. Chris is endlessly patient and loving with Zach on days like these, but Zach doesn’t want it all to go one way. They’re both equally vulnerable to that panicky abandoned feeling, like there’s a black hole in your chest and your whole self is being sucked into it. Zach nuzzles and kisses Chris’s face when he’s done, and then pats him dry with a big fluffy towel. They both admire Chris’s handiwork in the mirror, the bright red, slightly raised marks across his ass and thighs standing out in the harsh light of the bathroom, all part of the tender and currency of their relationship, the proof of love exchanged and shared.  

 “Beautiful,” Chris murmurs, and Zach agrees. He draws Chris’s face to his and kisses his lips. They stand there in front of the mirror, Zach’s hands holding Chris’s face possessively, Chris’s hands resting lightly on Zach’s hips. Zach slides his tongue into Chris’s mouth and swallows Chris’s moan as he continues his exploration. He knows you’re supposed to keep your eyes closed when you kiss, but he can’t help stealing glances in the mirror to see how they look, and when he catches Chris doing the same thing, he breaks away to smile. They’re both hard, and Zach reaches down to stroke them both, but Chris bats his hand away.

“Later,” he promises, his eyes glittering.

 

***

 

They tug on warm, comfortable clothes, the kinds of things that are on Zach’s mental list of “items that should never leave the house unless they are in a trash bag.” Zach lingers in their bedroom a little longer, searching for his softest hoodie at the back of the closet, then follows Chris into the kitchen.

Chris is good at planning, and he’s also good at eating, so it stands to reason that he’s filled the fridge and cupboards with everything they could want for the next few days. He’s also really good at taking care of Zach, so ‘everything they could want’ seems overwhelmingly biased towards all of Zach’s favourites: his favourite cookies, his favourite organic coffee brand that Chris not-so-secretly thinks is pretentious, his favourite green grapes even though he _knows_ that Chris prefers the purple ones. Seeing all of this stuff in the kitchen gives Zach a warm glow, which increases tenfold when he spots Chris preparing a sandwich that wouldn’t look out of place in an episode of Scooby Doo, with an expression of deep concentration on his face.

“Hungry, then?” Zach says pointedly, and Chris looks up and grins.

“Just a little. You want one?”

“I think I’ll make mine slightly easier to handle. You’re gonna dislocate your jaw on that thing.”

“I’ve got something to dislocate your jaw right here,” Chris leers, gesturing to his crotch, and Zach bursts out laughing.

“That’s lame. That’s _lamer_ than lame, even for you.”

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did.” Zach crosses the kitchen to get close to Chris, who puts down his plate and embraces Zach.

“I love you,” he whispers in Zach’s ear, “More than anything. You know that, right?”

“You just abandoned a sandwich for me. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“Shut up.”

They eat standing up because Zach isn’t completely ready for sitting yet. It’s only when Zach starts eating that he realises how ravenous he was, and he scarfs down the meal quickly, then helps himself to a handful of cookies. When Chris has finished inhaling his own sandwich, they wash the dishes in companionable silence, standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink, bumping together frequently. The slight contact is reassuring to Zach. His body aches, yes, but his heart aches more, and the strong, sure presence of Chris next to him is the only thing that can soothe it.  When the last dish has been dried, Zach turns to Chris and embraces him, holding him tightly. Chris gives him a squeeze.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…I’m sorry I’m being so clingy today.”

“Hey.” Chris pulls back so that he’s looking Zach in the face. “No. Don’t be sorry. You never have to be sorry for anything after a scene, you know that. I need to be close to you just as much, anyway.”

Chris’s gaze is intense, almost too intense for Zach to hold, but he nods.

“You want to go back to bed?” Chris asks.

It _would_ be nice to be back in bed, warm and snuggled up together, so Zach smiles, and says “Yes, please.”

“Ok. I could give you a backrub when we get there if you want?”

Chris’s determination to spoil Zach today clearly knows no bounds, and Zach has absolutely no problem with that. He soaks up all of Chris’s loving attention just as eagerly he can soak up all of the pain he inflicts. It’s all coming from the same source anyway, two sides of the same coin. Plus, there is no way he would turn down a backrub. Chris’s backrubs are amazing.

“I think you’ve convinced me.”

 

***

 

Chris makes the bed, fluffing up the duvet and straightening the pillows, and pats it, indicating where Zach should lie down. Zach strips down to his boxers, and arranges himself as instructed, while Chris covers his lower half with another blanket so that Zach won’t get cold. Chris sits by Zach’s side on the bed, rummages in the drawer of the nightstand to find their favourite lavender massage oil, and pours some into his hand to warm it up. Then he applies it to Zach’s shoulders, working it into the muscles, finding the knots and gently easing his fingers into them. There’s a particularly persistent one which has taken up permanent residence in Zach’s left shoulder blade. Chris knows it well – it’s an old enemy – and he presses hard, his touch firm and sure, while Zach moans his appreciation and lets the competing pain and pleasure of it flood his senses. He can feel himself becoming more relaxed, the sweet aroma of the lavender filling the room and lulling him into a state of drowsiness despite the sparks of tenderness in his muscles. Chris takes another drizzle of oil and works the heels of his hands down either side of Zach’s spine. Zach moans again, melting into the mattress as Chris’s hands glide down him. It feels exquisite. He’s always so much more vocal during a back massage than he ever is during sex, to Chris’s everlasting puzzlement.

He’s so blissed-out it takes a moment for him to realise that Chris has stopped his attentions, and another moment to register that Chris is talking to him. Chris has to repeat himself twice before Zach can persuade his brain to bypass its lavender-filled haze and translate the sounds he is hearing into actual words.

“Zach? You ok?”

“Mmmyeah.” Proper words are totally overrated just now.

“Did you hear what I asked you just now?”

“Nnnnnno.” Why has Chris stopped? Zach wriggles in an attempt to get him to start up again, but it is unsuccessful. Chris smiles, with a hint of teeth, like a great white shark.

“I asked whether I could touch them.”

Zach shivers. He knows what _they_ are by Chris’s tone of voice. Chris doesn’t ever push him, but Zach can tell that he _wants_ this, and Zach wants him to have it. He can’t really deny Chris anything, after all. He raises his hips to let the blanket slip down and reveal his bruises. Even the slight catch of the woollen fibres as they slide past his skin causes Zach to hiss with discomfort. Whatever Chris will do to him will be much worse, and Zach feels a slight stab of trepidation mixed with the flood of arousal that being the focus of Chris’s attention always brings him.

“Be gentle?” He doesn’t want to sound pathetic, but it’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

Chris cups Zach’s cheek in his hand, a reassuring little caress. His facial expression is still predatory, like maybe he doesn’t know whether to eat Zach straight away or toy with him first, but it’s counterbalanced by the presence of his fingers on Zach’s face, a conduit for the warm current of affection seeping directly into his skin.

“Of course, love.”

For a moment, Chris just looks at him. Zach can’t see him, because his face is buried in the pillow, but he can _feel_ it, the heat of Chris’s gaze on him, the intensity of being scrutinised. Zach has always loved being the centre of attention – it’s part of why he loves acting so much, of course – but it’s extra special when it’s Chris looking at him with such concentration. He imagines what he must look like to his lover just now, the vivid bruising standing out against his white skin even in this half-light, the marks of Chris’s ownership etched into his skin and standing out, impossible to hide. Chris still hasn’t spoken, and Zach is beginning to feel tense. He knows something is coming, but he has no idea what it is. Chris promised to be gentle, so he’s probably not going to hit him again, but any pressure on those spots is going to hurt.

He’s just contemplating shifting his hips slightly in order to get a bit of friction on his hard and aching cock when he hears Chris move and then feels a warm wetness on the top of his thigh. The sensation is confusing at first, but then he realises it’s Chris’s tongue. Chris is licking the bruises, gently, like an animal tending a wounded mate.

It hurts, of course, but it’s a good pain. Chris pauses in his licks to blow warm air across his skin, and then he delicately sucks one of the raised marks into his mouth. Zach gasps and shudders as Chris keeps mouthing him, giving each bruise the same meticulous treatment. It’s almost like the massage earlier, working the sore places and giving them a combination of relief and further pain. It feels _so good._ Chris’s mouth continues its unhurried journey over Zach’s body while Zach grinds helplessly into the bed, desperate for more, needing more direct stimulation, but he daren’t move too much. A sharp nip to a bruise on his ass cheek tells him he’s already gone too far, and he yelps, suddenly in an explosion of pain.

“Baby, don’t do that,” Chris says, his voice soft and ever-so-slightly menacing. “I’m going to take care of you. But you have to wait.”

“Please…please, Chris…”

“Not yet. I want to taste them all.”

 Zach moans and tries his best to keep still, but it’s increasingly difficult. Even though the bite still stings, even though all of his bruises have been coaxed back to throbbing, swollen life on his legs and ass, his arousal is still building. With every lick and suck, Zach feels himself getting more wound up, but he forces his hips not to buck, even as Chris works the barest edge of teeth into his licking and suckling routine. He lies there for what feels like forever, trying to concentrate on breathing in and out and not making any noise. Finally, _finally,_ Chris stops to admire his handiwork, and the cool air of the room is like balm to Zach’s spit-slicked skin.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So good. You taste delicious.” He slides a hand under Zach’s hips and teases his cock. Zach moans again and pushes forwards into Chris’s grip, wanting more.

“Feels so good…Chris, _please_ …”

“Ok, ok. Spread your legs.”

Zach complies eagerly as Chris releases his cock. He places a hand on each of Zach’s ass cheeks, careful to avoid the glowing bruises, and pulls them apart. Then he dives in and licks over Zach’s hole.

Zach _whines_ , unable to stop himself. This isn’t something they do often, but Chris knows he loves it, and Chris loves giving it to him. There is none of the tenderness Chris has been showing Zach’s bruises in this, just long, wet, hard licks from his balls to his crack, soaking Zach with spit and driving him absolutely crazy. He’s humping the mattress now, but Chris makes no attempt to stop him. He sucks at Zach’s asshole and then plunges his tongue inside him with a joyous, enthusiastic hum that sounds way out of place from the guy who sounded so commanding earlier and more like the Chris Zach knows in everyday life, exuberant and generous and devoted to Zach’s pleasure. Zach pushes his ass into Chris’s face as Chris tongue-fucks him, and the combination of that and the press of Chris’s thumb hard against his taint makes him come with a shout, spurting messily all over the blanket and momentarily blacking out.

 

***

 

When Zach comes round, Chris is sponging him down with a washcloth, taking care not to aggravate the sores. He hands Zach a glass of water as he looks up, and Zach drinks gratefully. Once he’s replaced the empty glass on the nightstand, Zach shuffles over to make room for Chris on the bed, and Chris flops down next to him. Pulling the blankets up over them, he drapes an arm over Zach’s back and squeezes his shoulder gently.

“You enjoy that?”

“What gave it away?”

“Oh, you know, the writhing, the screeching…”

“I do not _screech_ ,” Zach replies haughtily, uncomfortably aware that he does.

“You do when I’m rimming you. I had to get you that water in case you’d dehydrated.”

Chris’s gentle teasing is a sign that the balance between them is getting back to normal. They’re usually pretty sombre the day after a scene, not wanting to stir up any bad feelings, even though their normal dynamic is a playful kind of ridicule that can look harsh to outsiders. Chris willingly dropping his post-scene protectiveness in order to make fun of him is the final part of returning to themselves, a process requiring varying amounts of affection, food, sleep, communication, sex, and time, depending on the situation.

Zach still can’t sleep any other way than on his front, so Chris just holds his hand as they drift off to sleep. Zach listens to Chris’s breathing and feels overwhelmed by love for him, like a sweet, dull ache around his heart. Overnight, as the clouds pass overhead, they will slip back into Daily Zach and Chris, putting those other selves away for when they next need them, whenever that may be. In the meantime, the love that binds them to each other is the only rope they’ll need.


End file.
